A/N: A slightly shorter chapter this time, but very pivotal to the story, as you'll see. *smile*
Warnings: Spoilers through Season 7, as usual.
Disclaimer: Canon characters belong to DPB, CBS & Company. No copyright infringement intended.
Friday, June 4, 2010 7:00 a.m.
The first shift ended, without incident. At 07:00, Gibbs arrived to relieve Tony, who was looking forward to crawling into his bed and crashing for a few hours. These all-nighters really took their toll nowadays, and it had been only through sheer adrenaline, combined with copious amounts of Ziva's turkish coffee, that he'd managed to keep his eyelids open until his boss got there.
He drove home slowly, carefully, acutely aware that his reflexes were not at their sharpest in his current drowsy state. Making his way from the front door to the bedroom, he peeled off articles of clothing as he went, leaving behind a suggestive trail that would have sent all the wrong signals if someone had walked in after him. He flopped face-down on the bed, without even bothering to pull down the sheet, still in his socks and boxers.
But as exhausted as he was, he found he couldn't get to sleep. There was too much damned light. How the hell did Louisa do it? Even with the blind pulled right down and a sheet thrown over it for good measure, the sun still managed to force its way through. He pulled the pillow over his head, and cursed. After tossing and turning for another half hour, he gave up, padded into the bathroom, and downed a sleeping pill. He didn't dare take more than one, lest it work too well and cause him to sleep through his alarm, which he'd set for 1:00 p.m. so he could call Louisa as he'd promised.
3:45 p.m.
"This is Tony. I'm obviously doing something really important, otherwise I'd answer the phone. Leave a message, I'll call you." Beep.
The phone had rung six times before the machine kicked in. Tony was out cold.
"Tony? It's Louisa. I tried your cell just now – maybe it's off? Anyway, I left you a message at work too...just thought I'd try here in case you went home early...guess you're really busy. I know you said you'd call, but I baked you some cookies, and I thought I'd just drop them off for you. So, anyway, I'll see you in about an hour, ok? Oh, wait...you're at work, so you won't hear this...never mind...Ugh! I'm not normally this much of a bubblehead...honest! Miss you!" Click.
4:53 pm.
The Team Gibbs bullpen was deserted when Jimmy Palmer snuck upstairs and slid into Tony's chair. He'd heard McGee raving about the new Mafia Boss video game he'd installed on his PC, and decided this would be an ideal time to try it, with everyone either camped out at Ziva's apartment or at home catching a few zzz's. Ducky was in court this afternoon and wouldn't be back, and Jimmy had already finished re-stocking the autopsy shelves, so he had time on his hands.
He was just getting the hang of how to aim the gangster's AK-47 in the right direction, when an unexpected youthful female voice made him jump nearly out of his skin.
"Excuse me. Is Tony around?" He spun around, and saw the top of a short, rosy-cheeked woman with curly brown hair peering over the partition next to DiNozzo's desk. This must be Tony's new girlfriend – he recognized her from the photos that had made the rounds through the office.
"Uh, no ma'am. Is there something I can help you with?"
"Oh." She looked puzzled to learn that Tony wasn't there. Jimmy wondered why. "Well, can you tell me where he is?"
"He's at Special Agent Ziva David's apartment." Palmer did not know the rotation, and had naturally made the assumption that Tony had taken the day shift.
"Oh." She sounded a bit taken aback by the news. Jimmy wondered why. "Well, can I have the address? I have a little something I wanted to deliver to him, in person."
"Uh, probably not a good idea for you to go over there right now, ma'am," he cautioned.
"Oh." Her face went ashen. Jimmy wondered why. "I'll... just... leave this on his desk, then." She came around the partition and glanced around the bullpen. "Which is it?"
"That one, ma'am." Jimmy pointed across the bullpen. "I'll make sure he gets it."
"Thank you." She gently set the silver cookie tin on the edge of Tony's desk, and quickly strode back towards the elevator. Jimmy saw her put her hand over her mouth, fighting back a little gasp of distress as the elevator doors closed. He wondered why.
By some miracle, Louisa was able to hold it together until she got into the driver's seat of her Ford Explorer. She sat ramrod straight, staring out at the Navy ships on the Anacostia River, fully expecting the floodgates of tears to open once more. But there was nothing. She simply felt cold. Empty. And incredibly foolish.
How could she have been so naïve as to presume that Tony could be a one-woman man? After everything Pete had told her about him, it should not have come as a surprise that he would head over to his partner's apartment for a bit of action. Still, it had.
She had really believed that they had the beginnings of something special. She had really believed he was not the playboy Pete made him out to be. She had actually dared to believe that he might be falling in love with her. Because she was falling in love with him. And that made this just that much worse.
But she couldn't cry – not yet. All she could feel at the moment was a seething anger. She couldn't really tell whether it was anger at Tony, or at herself. Perhaps it was a mixture of both. She'd been right to keep to herself all these years, she decided. She'd been smart to stay single, and not bother with men. You really couldn't trust them; they really were all the same, after all. One brief lapse, and she'd allowed herself to be played. She'd proven her own theory. It was time for life to get back to normal.
She put the SUV in gear, and spun out of the parking lot in a fury.
8:23 p.m.
Tony sat in front of Ziva's meagre 36" TV set, watching Game 4 of the Stanley Cup in sullen silence.
He'd wakened up at something after 4 p.m., feeling groggy and not much more rested than when he'd got home. As soon as he realized the time, he'd called Louisa in a panic. No answer. Stupid, she's at work. He'd called her cell (NSA frowned on personal use of their phone system). No answer. He'd padded out to the kitchen to make some coffee, and had seen the message light on the answering machine. After listening to it, he'd chuckled to himself, and tried her cell once more. Still no answer.
And so it had gone, all afternoon. In all, he'd made 8 attempts to reach her, all to no avail. She didn't have voice-mail on her cell phone, so he'd finally tried her office number, around 6 p.m. When she didn't pick up there either, he'd left her a pathetic message, and given up for the evening.
"Louisa, it's me. I'm sorry! I overslept. I didn't forget you, honest. Please call me back, ok, hon?"
8:23 p.m. And still nothing. Could she really be that pissed, just because he'd been late with a phone call? It wasn't the sort of thing that would have bothered Pete much, but then again, she wasn't Pete, and he had to admit, they were only just getting acquainted. He had to keep reminding himself of that fact, because Tony DiNozzo had never fallen so hard, so fast, for a woman in his life.
With each successive attempt at contact, his stomach had tightened just a bit more. If he'd screwed this thing up, he'd never forgive himself.
Then again, did he really want to be with a woman who was that hypersensitive? No.
Back and forth he went, playing it over in his mind. Was it a blessing in disguise, that he'd found out this early how temperamental she was? Maybe. But then again, Pete had warned him she wasn't very confident with men, so maybe she'd misinterpreted the missed phone call as a sign she was being dumped? Pete's words echoed in his mind...Just do me one favour, would ya?...Don't break her heart.
He felt sick.
But there was nothing he could do about it tonight. He was stuck here, babysitting. Missing out on cheese doodles, beer, and 58" of High-Def hockey heaven.
Ziva trotted into the living room, carrying a tray bearing a pot of tea with two mugs, and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. He took the offering gratefully. His charge was at least trying to be nice, even if there wasn't much conversation. She settled down in a corner chair with a book, and they spent the rest of the evening in silence. Philly won, 5 to 3. Louisa would be pissed about that as well. He sighed.
Saturday, June 5, 2010 7:34 p.m.
Ducky, Jimmy and Abby arrived at Ziva's apartment, for a movie night - with that many people present, there was little likelihood Jessop would strike. Jimmy had brought along several varieties of soft drinks, and Abby had contributed a club-pack of artery-clogging Extra-Butter Microwave Kettle Corn. Tony had arranged for a double-feature that would keep them occupied well into the night (and keep his mind off the fact that he still hadn't heard from Louisa).
He popped the first DVD in, and intoned in his best British accent, "A Night To Remember. Released in 1958. Directed by Roy Ward Baker. Starring Kenneth More and Anthony Bushell. Introducing David McCallum as Assistant Wireless Operator Harold Bride." He switched to his normal voice. "D'you remember him in The Man From U.N.C.L.E.? I used to love that show!"
"Isn't that a bit before your time, Anthony?" Ducky queried.
"Yeah, but it was on in re-runs. I used to watch it every day after school. Right before Magnum," he recalled fondly. "Illya Kuryakin was great."
Ziva rolled her eyes. "I suppose that is where you picked up your 'extraordinary' undercover skills, yes?"
"I make no apologies for borrowing from the best, Ziva," Tony responded, completely deadpan. "You could learn a lot from those Soviets."
Abby bounded in from the kitchen carrying a giant bowl of popcorn. Jimmy followed behind with a tray bearing everyone's drink order: Coke for Tony and himself, 7-up for Ducky and Ziva, Dr. Pepper for Abby.
Tony insisted on turning off all the lights, except for one small table lamp – to get the 'ambiance' right, he said. The second film, James Cameron's Titanic, would take them well past midnight.
Every hour, Tony paused the machine for a moment. "McGee, this is Tony, checking in. All clear."
A/N: Don't hit me - please... *insert evil smile here*